


Straightforwardly

by speccygeekgrrl



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Inspired by Poetry, M/M, Pablo Neruda's Poetry, Pon Farr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:06:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8169418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speccygeekgrrl/pseuds/speccygeekgrrl
Summary: Everyone thinks that they know what the nature of the relationship between the CSO and the CMO is. Everyone just happens to be wrong.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Star Trek Kink Meme in 2009. The prompt was [Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda](http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xvii/).

It's not a secret because they keep it a secret, precisely. It's simply that no one questions the nature of their relationship-- Spock is the CSO, McCoy is the CMO, and their departments are often enough interlinked that of course they have to have meetings, probably all boring department-head talks. Anyway, everybody knows that Spock thinks McCoy is too emotional to hold a reasonable discussion, and McCoy thinks Spock is an annoyingly blank pointy-eared bastard, and that's just how it is.

Except that it isn't, really.

It happens somewhere between the fourth and ninth major incidents after the Enterprise gets properly sent out on its five-year mission-- between the time that Kirk gets split into two by a transporter accident, and the time Chekov almost gets married to the princess of Sofer II by sharing a piece of chocolate with her. Later someone will ask how their unlikely relationship started, and Spock will go inscrutable and McCoy will get cranky. No one will find out that neither one is quite sure when respect became admiration, or at what point the duty of one Starfleet officer to protect another became care and concern.

Between those missions, Spock ends up in Sickbay four separate times: once with a concussion, once with acid burns, once with lacerations to both arms, and once with no heartbeat and no respiration. Vulcan hearts beat too fast for CPR to be of any use, and that day is the first day either one of them actually speaks aloud what's been building between them, McCoy swearing low and constant until the defibrillator finally hits the right voltage and the pulse monitor goes from 0 to 140 in a modern medical miracle. Once the nurses filter away and pull the curtain behind them, mindful of the First Officer's desire for privacy, McCoy braces both hands on the bed and hangs his head, watching the infinitesimal rise and fall of Spock's chest, waiting for that pulse to rise from a slow 140 up to a near-normal 220.

"Damn fool," he mutters, "member of an endangered species should have more of a self-preservation instinct. You don't get the luxury of checkin' out, I need you here, dammit." He doesn't know that even in a healing trance, Spock can hear his words, can feel the gentle, medically unnecessary touch of McCoy's fingers on his brow, smoothing dark hair straight and tidy. "You don't get to leave me."

When he awakes hours later, Spock doesn't reference McCoy's confession, but it lingers in the forefront of his mind for days. As usual, they snipe at each other across the bridge, McCoy with his drawl broadening as his temper heats, Spock responding with ever icier tones, but without an audience to witness the banter they speak to each other with warmth.

Everyone assumes that the captain is in the way-- that Kirk's been with McCoy ever since the Academy, or that the reason Uhura broke up with Spock is because she found him with Kirk in some undisclosed location-- but the rumors never quite filter up to the command level, and the one time a nurse accidentally hyposprayed herself and started spouting off how jealous she was that McCoy had the Captain at his beck and call and he must be so good in bed, Doctor, you're so lucky, McCoy didn't know what to do except laugh and set her on a biobed and go get a drink for himself because, really, _what the fuck_ was that?

When the deeper connection started, neither one can pinpoint, but there is one distinct moment that turns everything the two have been leading to without consciously aiming toward into solid, undeniable fact: without knowing quite how, or when, or from where, love has woven a cord tightly around them, so that when Spock feels the fever he had hoped to be spared rising through his blood all it takes is a touch for McCoy to understand. As the CMO, he takes them both off-duty; as a friend, he accompanies Spock to the arid heat of his quarters; as a man in love, he leans his forehead to Spock's and speaks, his breath ghosting across Spock's lips.

"Whatever you need, I'm here," he says, and offers a chaste kiss that Spock draws out, arching his neck to follow when McCoy starts to pull away.

"I only need you, Leonard." Spock is logical, and McCoy is practical; they pile water bottles and extra lube and clean towels beside the bed before stripping unselfconsciously, no pride or embarrassment or nervousness to finally be laid bare to reverent eyes. Spock steps closer, brushes McCoy's cheek with two fingers, then trails them across his lips, down his throat and the center of his chest, until they rest over the steady beat of McCoy's heart, so slow compared to the hummingbird flutter of his own pulse.

Cautiously, McCoy wraps a hand around Spock's wrist and lifts his hand back up, kisses his fingertips before setting Spock's hand across his cheek. "You've got me." Slipping into Leonard's mind feels to Spock like stepping into a pool of warm water, comforting and overwhelming his desert-dweller's senses; to McCoy it seems more like coming out of an air-conditioned house into the pure light of the summer sun, hot and bright and real. Their bodies twine, far less complex than their minds but no less rapturous; the connection is so strong that when they reach a simultaneous peak, minds flaring like binary stars gone supernova, Spock's fingers are laced with McCoy's, pinning his hands to the bed. The primary contact of psi points is mouth to mouth, wordless cries giving voice to all the meaning they don't need to say to be known.

Lying together in the afterglow, too wonderfully exhausted to move more than simply shifting from atop to beside McCoy, Spock hums quietly as McCoy's hand sweeps up and down through his dark chest hair, fingertips tickling skin still flushed green with exertion. "Rest," he says softly, "sleep a while."

"That's not all, right?" McCoy murmurs, and Spock allows himself to smile as he closes his eyes.

"That is not all. There will be so much more for us..." He can feel the subtle fade of his lover's mind as sleep takes over, but Spock is asleep himself before he knows the moment when Leonard's thoughts end and his dreams begin.


End file.
